Supernova - Marissa Meyer Page 0,34

Renegade on the news lately. Monarch. The one who led her team to the lair of Ace Anarchy.” She inclined her head. “Interesting coincidence.”

Pulling her arm back, Narcissa threw the jar at the bedroom’s far wall.

Nova cried out. At the same moment that Narcissa was vanishing into the surface of the mirror, Nova dove for the jar, but she knew she wouldn’t reach it in time. It seemed to move in slow motion as it tumbled through the air.

It smashed into the wall and exploded into dozens of tiny shards.

The butterfly lurched upward, spiraling toward the ceiling. It darted just beyond Nova’s grasp and took off toward the window that had been left open for the bees.

Cursing, Nova chased after it. The butterfly dipped downward. Nova lunged, arm outstretched, fingers straining.

The butterfly was flying straight for the window. Bees were clouding in around it, having noticed new prey in their midst.

The butterfly shot through the opening.

Nova dove. One knee on the window’s ledge, one hand barely catching the frame to keep from falling, one outstretched hand crushed into a fist.

She hung there, motionless but for her erratic breaths. Though wasps and hornets surrounded her, and some even dared to perch on her knuckles and inspect her squeezing fingers, there were no stings.

Trembling with adrenaline, Nova pulled herself back into the bedroom.

Dazed, Nova looked down to see one hive with a footprint shoved into its papery shell in the center of the room. She’d moved so fast, she hadn’t even noticed stepping on it. The bees who had called it home were swarming around, enraged, their buzzing deafeningly loud, but they were not the insects that worried her.

Exhaling, Nova pried open her fingers.

The butterfly’s wings were broken. Its hairy, speckled body was still twitching.

Stomach roiling, she dropped the creature to the floor. It was set upon instantly by the waiting bees.

There would be nothing left of it.

She dusted the powder from her hands. Her body was trembling.

This butterfly was dead, and while Danna wouldn’t retain the memories of what it had seen, there were hundreds of other butterflies that would be able to re-form now, to tell what they might have uncovered. What else had Danna learned from following Nova, before this one had been captured?

Nova’s heart ricocheted inside her chest. She felt hollowed out. Terrified.

She didn’t know if Narcissa or Danna would inform the Renegades first, but it didn’t really matter. Nova knew one thing for sure.

She was out of time. Danna could become human again at any minute. Maybe she already had.

How long before everyone knew the truth?

“Leroy! Honey!” she yelled, rushing back down to the ground floor. “I hope that explosive you talked about is ready to go. We need to leave, now.”

Leroy and Honey were both standing amid the broken glass in the front room. Leroy was examining the rock that had been thrown through the front window.

Snarling, Honey shook her head. “A plain old rock,” she said, aghast. “It’s practically amateur hour around here.”

“Did you hear me?” said Nova, her voice tinged with panic. “The butterfly is dead. If Monarch hasn’t already re-formed, she will soon. I’m not sure how much she knows, but…” She trailed off.

“But it’s almost certainly enough to incriminate you,” said Leroy, dropping the rock. It landed with a heavy thunk on the carpet. “And lead back to all of us. Worst-case scenario, they’ll be here in … ten minutes?”

“Sooner if they send the nearest patrol unit,” said Nova. “Maybe longer if—if the Council makes this a personal priority. But not by much.”

Leroy nodded. “I’ll set the explosive and be ready to detonate at the first sign of the Renegades approaching. Take only what we need. Don’t worry about leaving evidence behind—nothing will be recognizable when I’m done with it.”

CHAPTER TEN

THE LAST TIME Adrian had raced across the rooftops of Gatlon City in the Sentinel’s armor, he had been carrying Max, half dead, in his arms. He was only slightly less panicked now. Ruby’s message had been so emphatic, and so utterly lacking in explanation. He had immediately responded, desperate to know why she was summoning the team, but there had still not been a response.

So he ran.

Or, jumped.

Some might even say he flew. It was the closest he would ever come, at least until he could figure out how to tattoo wings onto his own back.

The springs tattooed on the soles of his feet propelled him forward, soaring over streets and skyscrapers. He wasn’t being particularly discreet, but he’d found that

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